


A Lesson In Environmental Responsibility

by lezzerlee



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Barebacking, Breathplay, Comeplay, Dubious Consent, Environmentalism, Felching, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Rimming, Slash, surprise barebacking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-18
Updated: 2011-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:04:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lezzerlee/pseuds/lezzerlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Public Sex. Arthur teaches Eames how to be environmentally friendly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson In Environmental Responsibility

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [A Lesson In Environmental Responsibility](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4072645) by [takethebluepill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethebluepill/pseuds/takethebluepill)



> Inspired by [this Prompt](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/5987.html?thread=8569699#t8569699) in [Inception Kink](http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink)
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely [sneaqui](http://sneaqui.livejournal.com)
> 
> [Chinese Translation now available here](http://www.movietvslash.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=143190&extra=page%3D1%26filter%3Dtypeid%26typeid%3D22%26typeid%3D22), thanks to Ashenmiemie (must register, but it is free)

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

Eames turns to quirk an eyebrow at Arthur, fully expecting to find that Arthur has stepped in something in the nasty alley they are in at the moment. He has just tied off the condom from their little escapade and tossed it down the corridor towards the rest of the rubbish.

“I can’t believe you just threw that on the ground.”

“What? It’s all garbage down there anyway.”

“That’s not the point.”

Arthur is fastening his belt buckle and smoothing his hair. In a few moments he’ll look perfectly composed, cuff links straight and not a speck of dirt on his tailored jacket. No one will be able to tell that he had been sobbing in pleasure, face pressed up against the rough brick of a deserted alleyway, and begging for more.

“What _is_ the point, darling?”

“It’s hazardous, and you’re ruining the environment.”

“I’m not _hazardous_ ,” Eames says, offended. “You have seen my blood work. And _this_ is not an environment.” He waves his hand around in a gesture of distaste towards their surroundings.

“Birds could swallow that. Or kids could find it.”

“A) Who gives a fuck about birds? B) Where are there kids? We’re in the middle of an industrial zone.”

“You should care more about the environment, you know. And it’s just rude. Nobody wants to see that.” Arthur gives him an exacerbated scowl. Eames loves Arthur’s scowly face. He finds it endearing and adorable only because he’s never been on the dangerous side of it.

“This wouldn’t be a problem if you’d let me fuck you bare, you know.”

“I’m not walking around with come dripping out of me all day. You like spontaneous sex. I like not sitting in wet shorts during client meetings.”

Arthur stalks past Eames down the alley. He bends down to retrieve the latex balloon, holding it between his fingertips like it’s deceased vermin. He returns, still holding it out in front of him, and searches around their feet for something else. He gives a noise of approval when he finds the ripped packaging. He tucks the rubber back into the foil before pocketing it.

“You’ve been thinking about that the entire time, haven’t you?”

“Not the _entire_ time.”

“Like bloody hell you haven’t. I know how your mind works.” Eames adjusts himself in his pants. He had to wipe the extra fluid on his briefs after removing the condom. It will dry into a hard crust, an uncomfortable but acceptable reminder of their deed.

“You’re just going to carry that around?”

“Until we find a bin, yes.”

“I thought you didn’t want come in your suit.”

Arthur gives him a long suffering sigh. Eames catches him by the wrist before he can pass. He presses Arthur back against the wall, blocking him with his mass. Arthur could break free and take him down, if he really wanted to, but he lets Eames crowd him like this. He lets Eames pin him, lets Eames pretend he has the upper hand.

“Next time, darling, I’ll make sure to dispose of things properly. That way you are focused on me, and only me, when I fuck you.” Eames takes Arthur’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing him to look into his eyes. He circles his thumb over Arthur’s lower lip, and Arthur’s tongue darts out to lick it instinctively.

“I don’t want your splendid mind concentrating on anything other than my cock pounding into your sweet little arse.”

Arthur’s breath hitches like it always does when Eames uses that voice: his commanding one, the one that’s low in his throat, the one that draws out vowels like taffy. Arthur’s eyes flutter shut when Eames presses his thumb into his hip bone and nudges at his neck with his jaw. He mouths along the cusp of Arthur’s ear.

“Pity there’s no time. I’d love to undo you again right now.”

Eames reaches back to palm Arthur’s firm arse before attacking his mouth in a fierce kiss. He forces his tongue in, tasting Arthur, licking every inch he can in Arthur’s mouth. He thrusts a thigh between Arthur’s legs, grinding into him again. He knows he’s being a colossal arse. Arthur is the one with a short refractory period, and they’re on a deadline. He’s working Arthur up again, but he’s not going to be able to finish. He knows he’ll pay for this later.

“Eames,” Arthur pants, his cock already half hard again, rubbing along Eames’ hip. “Eames, stop. I can’t. We don’t...”

Eames cups Arthur’s jaw in his hand, turning him into the kiss more so that he can’t speak, can’t beg him to stop. All Arthur can do is moan and gasp as Eames muffles every plea with a kiss. Arthur is shivering beneath him, oversensitive and needy. Little spasms of of pleasure cause his hips to twitch, thrust out, as he rubs himself on Eames. Arthur finally shoves Eames off with a violent jerk, nearly sending him to the ground.

“Fuck you, Eames!” Arthur hisses. He palms himself through his pants, adjusting his swelling erection.

“That’s the idea, love.”

Eames earns another scowl for that line. He doesn’t try to kiss Arthur again though; they really don’t have time. Their mark is due at any moment, and they need to be on their game. Arthur smooths out his clothes again, putting everything back in its proper place. Eames relishes the sight of Arthur’s slightly messy hair before he smooths it back down. Tonight he’s going to come in it, thoroughly ruin that perfect coiffé.

***

“Fuck, Arthur. You’re so fucking tight. You’re so beautiful, you know that? I love you like this. I love you underneath me. I love how you feel wrapped around my dick, darling. You’re so hot, so greedy for me. You can take anything I give you, can’t you? You can, I know you can. You’re so good for me.”

Eames has never been able to stop talking during sex. His internal monologue just pours out of his mouth uncontrollably. He’s lucky that Arthur loves it, that Arthur responds so deliciously to it. His head nods loosely from side to side when he replies with a broken voice.

“Yes, yes. So good for you. Please. Fuck. Please!”

“Oh, darling, you are so perfect. I just want to fill you up. I’ll come inside you, and you’ll try so hard to keep it in, but you won’t be able to. But you’ll try, because you’ll want me to fuck you again when you’re still wet with it, just a filthy mess.”

He ramps up the pace to a brutal speed. Each snap of his hips pushes Arthur across the sheets. He’s thrusting with such concentration that he doesn’t notice when Arthur transforms from pliant and needy to razor sharp. Arthur moves with lightening speed, hooking a leg around his waist and twisting them around. He slides out of Arthur on the flip and groans with the loss; he had just set a perfect pace. But he can’t dwell on it long because Arthur has a forearm to his throat, cutting off his air supply.

Arthur and his wicked grin are looking down at him; loose hair hangs, curled and wet, in Arthur’s face. Arthur bends down slowly until his face is just hovering above Eames’ own. He cocks his head as if to slot their mouths together for a kiss, but it never comes. He just pushes down harder on Eames’ throat as he moves his breath across Eames’ lips, teasing.

Eames tries to dislodge Arthur but earns Arthur’s knees in his ribs for his trouble. Arthur finally lets up on his throat, resting his elbow on the mattress, but still draping his wrist across Eames’ trachea. He reaches between their bodies and wraps his slender fingers around Eames’ cock. Arthur grinds himself into Eames’ hip, bruising the skin with his erection. His hand is too loose, the pace too slow. All Eames wants to do is get back to where they were, him pounding into Arthur until his vision goes white.

“You know, Mr. Eames, I think I should punish you,” Arthur says, sultry and sweet. His voice is husky with arousal, and he’s being purposefully coy.

“Whatever for?” Eames asks, then gasps when Arthur flicks his wrist, a quick burst of gratifying friction.

“For contributing to global warming.”

Arthur speeds up his strokes. Eames doesn’t process the statement because he’s concentrating on the glide of Arthur’s fingers: relentless, up and down, but still too loose. When he doesn’t respond to Arthur’s answer, Arthur stops, just holds his cock around the base. Eames tries to fuck up into Arthur’s hand. He tries to grind himself on Arthur’s stomach. Arthur doesn’t let him; he holds his hips against the bed, body rigid, and presses his arm against Eames’ throat in warning.

“You’re not paying attention, Mr. Eames. Now I’m going to have to punish you more.”

“Fuck, Arthur.”

Arthur starts to move again. He’s grinding himself onto Eames in tiny little circles, hard and dripping with pre-come. His hand is still only at the base of Eames’ cock, and Eames needs more. He needs to come so badly. Arthur lets go completely and shifts his weight off, leaving Eames exposed. Eames’ skin prickles with goose-flesh when the cool air of the room hits his sweat. Arthur reaches for the lube, popping the cap open with his thumb.

He doesn’t even bother warming it up. Eames hisses when Arthur pours the cold liquid, letting it drip down the heat of of his foreskin. Arthur pulls the skin back, lubing the shaft liberally. His other hand reaches back to work himself open again. Arthur tips his head, mouth slack, and fucks himself on his own fingers. Eames can’t control the strangled sound that escapes his mouth when Arthur gasps around his own fingers. It should be his fingers, not Arthur’s. It should be his cock stretching Arthur out.

He reaches out, grabbing Arthur’s arse to pull him forward so that he can work his fingers in beside Arthur’s, but Arthur stops. His eyes snap open, and he gives Eames a sharp stare. He looks like a shark with how blown his pupils are. They’re just inky, dark spheres focusing on him with predatory intent. He doesn’t smile. He just reveals his sharp teeth by dropping his lower lip.

Then Arthur smooths his hand up Eames’ shaft again, spreading the lube more thoroughly. Eames groans with pleasure. Arthur centers himself over his hips, lining Eames’ cock up to his entrance. Arthur sinks down at a glacial pace. One hand guides Eames in as the other holds his hips in place, not allowing him to surge forward like he wants to. It’s excruciatingly slow. The tip of Eames’ cock is just scarcely past the ring of muscle when Arthur stops. Eames lets go of the breath he was holding in a sharp burst.

“Fuck, Arthur, don’t stop.”

Arthur just gives him that sharp, predatory smile and continues to lower himself slowly, millimeters at a time. Eames hips jerk reflexively, thighs twitching with the effort to stay still. His fingernails gouge half moons into Arthur’s skin. He’s so hard. He’d been so close to coming. He can’t help the string of curses that escape his mouth as he endures the torture.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Arthur, you bloody....fuck. You bastard!”

Slowly, so slowly, Arthur sinks down. He’s so tight around Eames. When finally Eames is fully sheathed inside Arthur, Arthur doesn’t move. Eames tries to roll his hips, to get friction instead of just pressure, but Arthur presses all his weight down and just sits with Eames inside him.

“What was it you said about focus, Mr. Eames?”

“What?”

“You said you wanted all of my attention on you, not thinking about discarded condom wrappers.”

“Fuck, Arthur, I don’t know. I can’t... _think_ with you like this.”

“You said that you wanted me focused on you pounding into my pretty ass.”

“That sounds like something I would say. Really, Arthur, does this train of thought have a point?”

“I want all of _your_ attention, Mr. Eames. I’m going to get off, and you are just going to have to wait. You’re going to wait for as long as I see fit.”

Arthur rocks back and forth, grinding on Eames in circles. It’s not enough friction, and Arthur knows it. He keeps his movements minimal, grinding and lifting off only enough to gain his own pleasure. He’s so tight around Eames’ cock that Eames can’t help but want more. He tries again to fuck up into Arthur, but Arthur just sits down without moving at all as he strokes himself over Eames’ stomach.

“Arthur, fuck. You’re bloody killing me, darling. Please.”

Arthur just grins and begins circling his hips again. Eames grips Arthur, pressing his fingertips harshly into the skin as he pulls Arthur down onto him. If Arthur’s not going to give him friction, at least Eames can get more pressure. He concentrates as Arthur moves, trying to feel as much as he can. Arthur flexes around him, pulses when Eames’ cock nudges that perfect spot inside.

It seems like forever before Arthur begins to stroke himself faster. He tips his head back on his shoulders and jerks his hips back and forth. Eames knows that he’s close now, because he’s lifting up more, allowing more movement. Arthur moans as he fucks himself on Eames’ cock. He bounces up and down, but it’s still not enough friction for Eames.

Arthur’s breath comes in short, desperate gasps. He bends over to hold himself on one arm and speeds up the pace. He seems to have stopped caring about the tease. Eames seizes the opportunity. He slides his hands under Arthur’s buttocks to hold Arthur up. He thrusts himself into him, jerking up off the bed. Arthur whimpers as Eames drives into him.

Arthur continues to stroke himself until he’s on edge. He’s murmuring unintelligibly, unable to keep a steady pace anymore. Eames talks him through it, tells him what a good boy he is, how beautiful he looks, how great he feels. Arthur’s head nods into his chest, like it’s too much effort to keep it up. Then his body goes rigid, eyes screwing shut, muscles contracting as he spills over his hand onto Eames’ stomach. His arse clenches around Eames’ cock and Eames doesn’t stop thrusting. He just plunges into Arthur until Arthur collapses.

Arthur is boneless on top of him, panting from his orgasm. He mouths wetly into Eames’ shoulder. Eames rolls them over until Arthur is under him again. He’s pliant, legs spread wide and loose. Eames continues to fuck Arthur, and Arthur whimpers on each thrust. Eames speeds up until he feels his orgasm building. He feels his balls draw up and pressure at the base of his spine. He pulls out, leaving Arthur’s hole gaping and wide.

Eames brings himself around to Arthur’s side, just beside his head. He strokes himself over Arthur’s face, dipping his cock down to run the head along Arthur’s lips. Arthur tongues at it lazily. Eames strokes faster and faster until he comes all over Arthur’s face and in his hair, making good on his plan from earlier today.

Arthur’s lashes stick together wetly. He looks thoroughly debauched: hair unkempt with streaks of semen in it, sweaty skin, lube-streaked thighs. Eames would love nothing more than to snap a picture of him like this with his phone, but Arthur would more than likely disembowel him if he even attempted to keep evidence like that. He takes a moment to gather himself before getting up and making his way to the restroom. He returns with a warm, wet washcloth and wipes his mess from Arthur’s eyes.

When he’s done, Arthur looks at him blearily, a small smile dimpling his face. He sighs contentedly and stretches his whole body out, arching his back. He looks utterly sated. Eames bends to kiss him, to taste the salty residue of his seed on Arthur’s lips. When he lays down, Arthur wraps an arm around his stomach. He pulls the sheets across them, to keep them warm now that their skin is cooling. Arthur gets cold easily, what with no fat on his bones, so Eames has learned to tolerate being overheated for the comfort of Arthur wrapped around him. In the middle of the night, he’ll kick the sheets off, and they’ll both claim their own space.

***  
Arthur says that it’s Eames that loves public sex, but Eames knows full well just how much Arthur loves it too. He’s the one who attacks Eames whenever they find themselves with the time and the space to do it. Arthur had once jerked him off through his pants on a New York subway car. They’d hidden in the back with Eames’ face pressed to Arthur’s neck to stifle his moans.

Eames is not innocent though. He’s the one who pulled the emergency stop on the elevators at the Sir Francis Drake the last time they were in San Francisco. Undoing Arthur in the glass elevators, in full view of the city, had been a thrill. They’d only escaped security by fighting their way out and running to the emergency staircase. He regrets bruising up an innocent party, but neither of them wanted their faces attached to a record, especially one for public indecency.

Now he finds himself fingering his way into Arthur’s tight hole in the bathroom of a Hong Kong restaurant. Thankfully the stall is fully enclosed, walls reach all the way to the floor. Arthur is biting his wrist to keep quiet. His legs are trembling as he leans against the wall. Eames keeps licking his fingers to keep them slick, not wanting to waste the one packet of lube he has just yet.

He rips a condom open, letting his pants fall to the floor. He slips the latex over himself and tosses the wrapper down on the floor by his feet. Eames leans in and presses his mouth to Arthur’s ear.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll throw it in the bin after.”

He pours the contents of the lube pouch onto his cock, then sinks into Arthur, pressing in steadily until he’s fully sheathed. Arthur curses into the wall. Eames fucks him fast and hard. The obscene slap of skin echos over the tile. If anyone comes in, they don’t notice, too lost in their act to care. They have just under fifteen minutes before their dinner meeting. Eames hopes they don’t get kicked out of the restaurant before then: rescheduling is always a hassle.

Arthur sobs, unable to contain himself as Eames drives in relentlessly. Eames’ orgasm takes him by surprise: white hot, nerves exploding with sensation, legs nearly collapsing underneath him. He comes down to find that he’s flattened Arthur against the wall, and Arthur is whining.

“No, no, Eames. Don’t stop! Please!”

Eames withdraws, and Arthur cries out, needy and anguished. His stretched hole twitches, spread open, wanting for something to fill it. Eames simply turns Arthur around and sinks to his knees. He sucks Arthur in without pretense, all the way down, until Arthur’s cock hits the back of his throat. He hollows his cheeks and slurps around it messily.

Eames pops off for just a moment to slip his fingers into his mouth. When he’s coated them with spit, he takes Arthur in his mouth again. Arthur spreads his thighs and widens his stance to allow Eames access. Eames doesn’t disappoint. He slips three fingers into him as he takes Arthur all the way down again. His throat closes around his cock, trying not to gag. Eames’ buries his nose in Arthur’s dark pubic hair.

Eames works his fingers back and forth, searching for Arthur’s prostate. He continues to suck, swirling his tongue around the head of Arthur’s cock. When he finds the nerve bundle, Arthur nearly yelps. Arthur draws his arm up again, biting the soft skin of his hand. Eames wants so badly to make him scream. He sucks Arthur down again and hums as he works his fingers inside Arthur’s arse.

Arthur comes with shudders and gasps. He spills into Eames’ mouth after tugging at his hair, unable to signal more than that. Eames swallows it all, not spilling a drop. When Arthur trembles from over sensitivity, Eames pulls away.

He stands with effort, knees popping. He’s getting too old for this, but he’ll rue the day when he can’t kneel in front of Arthur and tip him over the edge with his mouth. Until then, he’s going to do all he can. He loves the look of Arthur above him. He loves when his eyes gaze down through dark lashes and his mouth gapes with lost words.

He does up his pants and snatches the wrapper off the floor. He doesn’t toss the condom in the toilet, like he usually would. Arthur had reprimanded him for putting the rubber in the water treatment system, ranting about _making workers lives harder_ and it _not being biodegradable,_ or something.

Eames tucks the mess inside the ripped foil and unlocks the stall door. He deposits it in the bin and runs the faucet. He washes the the light sheen of sweat from his face. Arthur comes up beside him, tie already straight and jacket perfectly composed. Arthur washes his hands and smooths his hair into place.

Eames bumps his hip into Arthur’s, earning a curt smile. He grins in response. Arthur reaches past Eames’ head for a towel and Eames presses a kiss to the exposed skin of Arthur’s wrist. Arthur closes his eyes and smiles, a genuine one that shows off his dimples. Arthur dries his hands and tosses the paper. He walks out of the restroom at a brisk pace, no hint of how his arse must feel at the moment.

Eames waits, allowing a discreet amount of time to pass, before heading to the table himself. When he sits down beside Arthur, Arthur is all business. He doesn’t even allow Eames to play footsie under the table, though Eames tries.

***

Eames has Arthur propped up on the sink. His pants are hanging off one leg and a discarded shoe lies somewhere on the tile floor.

Arthur has been a fucking cock-tease all morning, kissing enthusiastically and grinding against Eames, just to pull away before they can really get into it. As they walked down the street to the coffee shop, Arthur threw Eames against the wall, and shoved a thigh between his legs, forcing his tongue in Eames’ mouth. He pulled away just as suddenly, walking into the shop, leaving Eames feeling dizzy.

Once inside the coffee shop, Eames barely had a chance to enjoy a sip of his tea before Arthur excused himself to the restroom. He didn’t give any sort of sly indication, as he usually would for an impromptu escapade, but Eames didn’t care. He got up and followed, slipping in before Arthur could lock the door.

“Eames?” Arthur asked, cocking an eyebrow skyward, but his dimples gave away the game.

“Don’t even,” Eames said then shoved Arthur against the wall, hands fisted in Arthur’s jacket. Arthur’s head hit the wall with a thump but he didn’t look put out, he just grinned and pulled Eames in, attacking his mouth with his own.

It’s fast and frantic. Eames fucks into Arthur so hard that Arthur’s head bounces off the mirror. Arthur is moaning with each thrust encouraging Eames to keep pace.

“God, yes, fuck me, Eames. Fuck yes! Don’t stop.”

“Fuck, Arthur, I’m going to make you come so hard. You’re so tight. Fuck, you are such a tease. How do you like it now? Is this what you wanted? You are such a slut for me.”

“Yes, Eames, Yes!”

Eames takes Arthur in one hand, griping him tight. He jerks Arthur at a brutal pace, in time to his thrusts. Arthur drags up his shirt exposing his flat stomach. His muscles ripple as he tries to keep his balance on the narrow ledge of the sink.

“Oh shit, oh shit. Eames, I’m gonna come. Please, don’t stop.”

“Never, darling, come on. Come for me.”

Arthur obliges. He lets out a strangled cry and spurts hot liquid across his own stomach and over Eames’ fist. He whimpers as Eames continues to thrust, trembling when his cock becomes too sensitive in Eames’ hand.

Eames follows with his own orgasm not long after. He grunts and snaps his hips in stuttered bursts. He collapses on top of Arthur, pinning him against the mirror.

“Eames. Eames the faucet.” Arthur presses against Eames’ shoulder gently.

“Hmm?” Eames asks, confused.

“The faucet. It’s digging into my back.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Eames lifts himself off and pulls out. He squeezes the condom off of his cock and tosses it in the nearest bin.

“That doesn’t go there,” Arthur chides.

“Huh?” Eames asks, intelligently. He can barely see straight, let alone think. One hand is trying to drag up his pants, but is failing miserably. The other is braced on a wall, keeping him from falling over.

“That one’s for composting. It’s green. You can’t put that there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, that shit goes to farmers, to use in their soil. It has to be organic items only.”

Arthur digs the condom out of the trash and places it in the third bin. Eames has regained enough coherency to realize that there’s another for recycling as well. Arthur puts the foil package in that one.

When they exit the restroom, they are met with knowing stares. The woman with her children looks downright murderous, but the college kids give them the thumbs up, and someone whistles from across the shop. Arthur’s face goes red, chagrined, and he adjusts his tie nervously. Eames just smiles giving the co-eds a wink before they exit.

They don’t even realize they’ve forgotten their drinks until they are half a block away. Arthur makes them stop at another shop. He’s very serious about his caffeine.

***

Eames is pushing his luck. He has Arthur trapped, backed into a corner of the library. Arthur would have to climb over the shelves to get past him. Arthur doesn’t even attempt to. Once Eames pushes him back into place with force, Arthur stays. He lets Eames kiss him until his lips are red and swollen. Without the suit Arthur would look like a teenager making out with a dodgy man at the library. Without the suit Eames would likely be handcuffed on suspicion of being a pederast. But Arthur is tailored to perfection today, so Eames is making it his personal goal to ruin him.

They’re exposed here, too much to do anything more than making out. So he stops kissing Arthur and pulls him by the tie to the astrophysics section. He knows the barren wasteland that the Advanced Sciences section is, especially in a library located directly next to a law school. He pushes Arthur onto his knees when they get to the back corner.

“You know, you’re interrupting my research,” Arthur complains. It’s a half hearted jab; Arthur is already mouthing Eames through his pants.

“I have faith in you, darling. A little distraction won’t be enough to put you out.”

Eames tagged along because he was bored. He knows that Arthur could probably find the information he needed somewhere online, but doesn’t fault the man for wanting to get out. Sometimes Dom is overbearing. But the sight of Arthur’s fingers stroking the backs of books when he pulls them off the shelf is too much. Arthur’s hands are always an obsession of his. He loves that Arthur’s long, slender fingers look so delicate, but can administer death so easily.

He can tell Arthur likes the tangibility of books, the feel of them. It’s probably why he keeps a moleskine instead of typing notes into a laptop or a tablet. Arthur treats them with such care. He’s mindful of not bending the spines or breaking the bindings. He doesn’t ever dog-ear the pages; he uses sticky notes to mark his place. Arthur’s moleskine is just as perfectly organized and neat as one would expect. That predictability is a comfort to Eames.

But Arthur is many things one wouldn’t expect. One of those things is a man willing to suck cock in the back of public library—books be damned if they become collateral damage.

Arthur unfastens Eames’ belt and zips down his fly. Eames wants to run his hands through Arthur’s hair, but fears the retribution he would receive for mussing it so early in the day. There is a timeline Arthur follows with regard to his appearance. He is not yet past messy hair-o-clock, and it isn’t until well into the evening before sweatpants can even be thought about, much less donned.

Arthur is kneeling before him, and Eames groans. Arthur hasn’t even laid a hand on him yet. He has just barely freed him from his pants.

“You’re so bloody gorgeous, you know that?”

Arthur smiles and pulls his bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth. He looks even younger when he does that, and Eames can only think the most impure thoughts regarding what he would have done had he known Arthur as a teenager. He can’t think for long before Arthur tongues at the slit of his cock. The sensation pulls his focus back into the moment.

Arthur’s tongue laves Eames' cock, making it wet and slick. When Arthur pulls back Eames’ foreskin, to lick around the tip, Eames hums in approval. Arthur has a beautiful, filthy mouth, and Eames loves watching his cock fill it. He loves the wet pop when he pulls out. He loves rubbing it cross Arthur’s lips, smearing a wet trail along them.

Arthur sucks cock like a champ. He switches his technique up just enough to make it interesting, to make it a tease, but he keeps a steady rhythm as well. He brings Eames to the edge, draws him close, then backs off to lick around his balls, letting the impending orgasm subside. Then he starts all over again.

After a few iterations of this, Eames gets frustrated. He loves when Arthur pleasures him, but he loves making Arthur come apart more. Sometimes he can come just from a quick jerk after eating Arthur out. The sobbing and begging goes straight to his cock.

Eames pulls Arthur’s head forward, hand firm on the back of his neck, until Arthur is choking around him. Arthur can take it, and Eames wants just a bit more before he carries out his plan. He intends to wreck Arthur today. He holds Arthur there until his eyes tear up and his throat spasms, then Eames pulls Arthur’s head back and allows him to breathe. Arthur’s lips are red, dripping with spit, and a string of it is still connected to his cock.

Arthur’s eyes are wet and his face is red, but his smile is demure. Eames runs a thumb along his swollen lips and gazes down at him fondly. He gives Arthur a deceptive smile, placating and sweet, before wrapping his hand around Arthur’s throat and dragging him to his feet. He shoves Arthur back against the wall forcefully and mauls his mouth. He kisses with teeth and tongue and no finesse. He just takes what he wants.

Arthur moans when Eames bites his lip, hard but not enough to break skin. Then Eames lets go of Arthur’s throat, allowing him to breathe properly again. He kisses the marks his fingers have made, red splotches on pale skin.

He unfastens Arthur’s belt while nipping lightly on Arthur’s tender flesh. When he reaches inside Arthur’s pants, Arthur is hot and hard. Arthur gasps when Eames cups him through his briefs. He rubs his palm along Arthur’s length before pulling it out to unbutton Arthur’s pants.

He drops to his knees, taking Arthur’s pants to the ground with him. He takes Arthur’s cock in a firm grip and hesitates just a moment to glance up at Arthur through his lashes before swirling his tongue around the head. Arthur’s eyes are dark, pupils wide, and his mouth is parted as he looks down at Eames. Arthur doesn’t hesitate to wrap his fingers in Eames’ hair.

He sucks Arthur down until his lips hit the base of Arthur’s cock. He relaxes his throat as much as possible and just enjoys the feel of Arthur inside his mouth, the weight of Arthur’s cock on his tongue, the smell of Arthur’s skin.

He pulls off to the tip and takes Arthur deep again. He breathes through his nose so as to not interrupt the action. Half choking on Arthur’s cock causes him to make the most obscene sounds: slurping, squishing, gagging. He loves everything about it, loves the soreness of his throat and the ache of his jaw wrapped around Arthur.

Arthur moans his encouragement. “Yes, Eames. Fuck, yes. You’re mouth is amazing.”

But this isn’t how Eames wants Arthur to get off. He wants more, he wants everything. He pulls off, scraping his teeth just enough to make Arthur hiss. He kisses the head of Arthur’s cock then grasps his narrow hips to spin him around.

Arthur fights the turn, wanting more, but relents when Eames stays on his knees. Eames spreads Arthur’s cheeks with his thumbs and licks from the base of Arthur’s balls up. Eames tongues at him, licking wet circles around the quivering ring of muscle as Arthur presses back onto his face. He could do this forever with the way Arthur sobs for it.

When Arthur is barely coherent, legs shaking and words fumbled over, he decides it’s time. Arthur is so blissed out he’s not paying attention. His eyes are looking, but glazed over, glassy as he leans against the wall, hand braced with white knuckles on a bookshelf.

Eames finishes with a sucking kiss over Arthur’s hole, before fishing a packet of lube from his pocket. He pulls Arthur down to his knees and bends him forward until his arse is in the air, perfect and wet and ready. He coats himself as he fingers Arthur. Arthur is loose enough, but Eames doesn’t want to let Arthur’s pleasure subside enough to come back to reality.

He wants Arthur to be a mess.

He removes his fingers then slips into Arthur bare. Arthur doesn’t even notice, he just moans as Eames fills him. Eames snaps his hips forward as he presses a hand between Arthur’s shoulder blades, forcing him to the floor. Arthur gasps with the sudden movement. Eames stills for a long time before he thrusts in again and leans over. He runs the hand on Arthur’s back up his neck to fist a handful of hair. He pulls Arthur’s head back and snaps his hips again, this time angling his hips slightly. Arthur’s moan comes out as a strangled purr, his neck stretched across the floor.

Eames angles again, trying to find just the right spot. He fucks in, one hard thrust at a time, until he finds the spot that makes Arthur cry out. Arthur doesn’t even try to keep himself quiet when Eames ramps up the pace. He rolls his hips faster and faster as Arthur moans continuously below him.

He doesn’t want to get caught before this ends though. Arthur is too loud, even in the abandoned corner they’ve found. He releases Arthur’s hair, letting his head fall and turn to the side, and sticks his fingers into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur licks them instinctively. He whimpers as he tongues Eames’ digits, sucks on them sloppily.

Eames continues pumping into Arthur, hitting Arthur’s prostate every other thrust. When Arthur can’t even mouth Eames’ fingers anymore, he knows he’s won. Arthur’s lips are slack and his whimpers become quieter, a calm before the storm. Eames removes his fingers, still wet with Arthur’s spit and reaches between them to circle Arthur’s entrance where it’s wrapped around Eames’ cock. Arthur hums with pleasure. His body is loose, and he rides each of Eames thrusts.

Eames sucks his fingers into the back of his mouth, gathering as much spit as possible, then pushes one in alongside his cock. Arthur keens at the stretch. He snaps back to attention, becomes lucid enough to say a few words.

“Oh, Jesus, Eames. Oh god, it’s too... too much. Fuck.”

“Shhh, darling, I know you can take it. I know you can stretch just a little more for me. You can do that, can’t you?”

“Yeah,” Arthur breathes. Eames knows that Arthur wants everything Eames can give him.

“That’s a good boy. You’re so tight, darling, but I have faith in you.”

Eames works the second spit-covered finger in slowly. Arthur gasps, a halted _ah, ah ah,_ as Eames works him wider. When his two fingers are fully inside, he lets Arthur recover for just a moment before he rolls his hips. His cock slides over his fingers again and again, and he knows it has to burn for Arthur, just a little, being stretched so much.

It doesn’t take long for Arthur’s _ah_ to turn to _oh_ and _yes_. Eames has held off so long to work Arthur up so much. His need to come is urgent now. He really can’t wait any longer when Arthur is such a beautiful mess in front of him. His shirt is rumpled, hucked up over his back and wet with sweat. Eames had managed to muss up Arthur’s hair without bodily harm befalling him, and Arthur hasn’t even realized that Eames has forgone the condom.

He wants Arthur to be reminded all day of what they’re doing, of how Eames is taking him apart and making him lose control. He pounds into Arthur until he can’t keep the pace, until he careens off the edge and his mind goes blank. Every thrust makes his skin feel electric, and he spills deep into Arthur, filling him like he does when they’re in their apartment. He feels the wetness as he slides in and out, coaxing every last drop out.

Arthur curses angrily, “Oh , fuck. Eames, you didn’t? Fuck.” But he’s still grinding back onto Eames’ cock, trying to keep friction though he’s too wet, and Eames is spent.

Eames pulls out, and Arthur’s arsehole is wide and red and wet with lube. His semen drips down Arthur’s taint, leaking messily because Arthur can’t hold it in. His arse was spread too wide with Eames’ fingers added, he needs time to recover.

“Fuck, Arthur, that’s so fucking lovely,” Eames says as he circles a finger around Arthur’s abused hole.

Arthur whines. Eames scoops up his own fluid and brings the mess to his mouth, sucking it down. His other hand palms Arthur’s balls. Their tight to his body, drawn up and ready. Arthur shakes and presses his open arse back towards Eames, searching for what he lost.

“Eames. Eames, please. Please, I need to come.”

Eames can’t refuse when Arthur begs so beautifully. He turns Arthur over onto the carpet so that he’s laying on his back. Eames hitches Arthur’s knees up over his shoulders, pulling Arthur’s arse off the ground. His come squishes out of Arthur when Eames moves him, bends him in half. It drips down Arthur’s skin, and he catches it with his tongue before it can drop onto the floor.

He licks a stripe up Arthur arse, gathering the fluid as he goes. He holds it on his tongue for a moment before swallowing, savoring the saltiness of it. He loves the idea that this came from inside Arthur, that he was the one to fill him up and he is the one to clean him out. He buries his face back into Arthur’s arse and licks until he’s cleaned all he can. He knows he hasn’t got it all. He knows that he’ll be dripping out of Arthur for the rest of the day. And he likes that.

“You’re going to be wet with me all day, darling. You’re going to be thinking about my cock inside you every time you move and you feel me drip out of you. You’ll be so messy at the end of the day, and when we get home tonight, I’ll clean you up. I’ll lick you clean again. Then I’ll fill you up again and do it all over.”

Arthur groans and grits his teeth hard. Eames can see the muscle of his jaw clench and unclench.

“Fuck, Eames. I should kill you right now, but, god, please, just...”

“Eames licks into Arthur again, shutting Arthur up by making him groan.”

“Please, Eames,” Arthur sobs. “Please, I need to come. Please make me come.”

Eames drops Arthur’s knees from his shoulders, allowing him to lay flat. He leans over from his position between Arthur’s legs to steal a kiss before he moves back down and takes Arthur in his mouth. He sucks Arthur down hard, harder than before. His tongue works around Arthur’s shaft, and he slips two fingers into Arthur’s still-wet hole.

He finds Arthur’s prostate easily and rubs over it again and again. Arthur cries and curses, and his hips buck up into Eames mouth uncontrollabley. Eames doesn’t stop him, he just takes it as Arthur fucks his mouth.

Then Arthur’s head nods from side to side, and he fists Eames hair. Eames feels the swell of Arthur’s cock as he comes. His hips jerk, and the head of his cock hits the back of Eames’ throat, but he just swallows. He swallows until Arthur is completely spent, not moving, breathing raggedly.

When finally Arthur seems to have regained the ability to think, Eames pulls Arthur’s pants up for him. He leans over, hovering above Arthur for a second, admiring how ravished Arthur looks. He bends down for a quick kiss.

He smiles then says, “The best part about today, darling, is that there is no trash you can reprimand me for improperly disposing of, or harming the environment with.”

“You are such an ass,” Arthur says as he punches Eames’ shoulder. “Why do I date you?”

“Because I make you come so hard you forget your name.”

Arthur doesn’t even respond, he just smiles before levering himself off the floor to do up his pants and tidy his shirt. Suddenly he goes very still, gasping and biting on his lower lip. His eyes screw shut, and his expression becomes a mixture of uncomfortable and pleased. Eames knows that his come is leaking out of Arthur right now, and he grins wickedly. Arthur might be able to hide the wetness of his pants, if he’s careful. He won’t be able to fix his hair though, not before they make it back to the workspace. Eames takes satisfaction in that fact.


End file.
